


Maybe I'll Tell You Later

by hollybennett123



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Face-Fucking, M/M, Semi-Public Touching/Dirty Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 04:22:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4691945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollybennett123/pseuds/hollybennett123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Cool,” Liam says softly, giving Zayn a playful little nudge with his knee. “Any reason why we’re whispering?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Zayn’s mouth curves into a smile against Liam’s jaw, the fingers resting at the back of his neck sliding up a fraction to play with the short hairs there in a way that makes Liam want to shiver.</i>
</p><p>(Zayn has a dirty mouth that he isn't averse to using in public places. Liam would find it annoying if it wasn't so, <i>so</i> hot.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe I'll Tell You Later

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nicethighsnicereyes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicethighsnicereyes/gifts).



> Per my recent [tumblr post](http://hollybennett123.tumblr.com/post/127972134788/hi-my-lovelies-i-promised-an-update-as-to-whats), I've decided to take a possibly extended, possibly permanent hiatus from writing in the fandom to explore other fandoms and refresh my mind a bit since, as much as I adore everyone here and have loved writing 1D fic, no matter how hard I try I've lost my passion for writing a bit and need a break. I have however worked hard to tidy off a couple of half-written fics so that I could share them with you guys today!
> 
> This fic is dedicated to nicethighsnicereyes: you gave me multiple, incredible fic ideas and I only wish I could have written them all for you like you deserve after being so supportive and leaving such kind comments on my fics! One thing you suggested in a comment was this: _"I'd love to have like a public or semi-public scene where Zayn talks dirty to Liam. Just the filthiest stuff. So Liam is turned on and embarrassed and flustered."_ I wanted this to be a fantastic long fic for you but it didn't quite work out - I didn't get to any actual sex scenes, but hopefully the dirty talk and casual touching is hot enough that you enjoy it all the same :D

It’s the kind of music that thumps low and deep, instrumental in its entirety with a bassline close enough to your pulse that you can feel the vibrations in your bones. It’s not so loud that it’s overwhelming, but there’s something about it that draws Liam in and blocks everything else out, and he closes his eyes for a moment where he leans against the bar and waits for the bartender to come back with the beers he’s asked for.

It’s not like they’re out to get hammered, but a day on the road means they’re all itching for a bit of time to relax before starting the dizzying back-and-forth of hotel to stadium to hotel. It’s just nice to settle for an hour or two with a drink and some music that isn’t their own, in an exclusive enough place that no one here cares who they are.

He feels rather than hears it when Zayn comes up behind him, senses him in the split second before his hand comes to rest on Liam’s waist. He perches himself on the bar stool next to where Liam’s standing and curls the fingers of one hand around the back of Liam’s neck, the other hand resting lightly against Liam’s chest for balance as he leans in far closer than necessary – as usual – to speak low into Liam’s ear.

“Alright? Got us a booth, babe, over there so we can sit down,” Zayn tells him. He nods his head slightly as he says it in demonstration; since Liam’s facing the bar, he’s none the wiser as to which direction this booth’s in, but there’s something about the way Zayn’s nose bumps up against his cheekbone, breath hot against his ear and holding him close that makes Liam’s stomach flutter excitedly.

“Cool,” Liam says softly, giving Zayn a playful little nudge with his knee. “Any reason why we’re whispering?”

Zayn’s mouth curves into a smile against Liam’s jaw, the fingers resting at the back of his neck sliding up a fraction to play with the short hairs there in a way that makes Liam want to shiver.

“The music’s louder down here, I didn’t want you t’have to shout over it,” Zayn murmurs, the hand on Liam’s chest creeping up so he can rub a fingertip in the hollow of Liam’s throat, slotting into the space where his collarbones meet. “Your throat’s sore, yeah? Couldn’t not be, the way you let me fuck your mouth last night.”

“ _Zayn_ ,” Liam says on a shocked breath. The memory of it, combined with Zayn’s hands on him, is enough to send a shivery little tremble of arousal through him, heat igniting in his veins. Zayn makes it _worse_ , though, with the way his grip tightens at the back of Liam’s neck, holding him firmly just like he had last night when he’d lain on his back against lavish sheets, knees drawn up for leverage as he’d fucked up into Liam’s waiting, willing mouth.

And Zayn’s right, of course. Liam _can_ still feel it, just a bit – that slightly raw feel in the back of his throat where Zayn had pushed the head of his cock in deep and twisted his hips. Liam had been achingly, desperately hard, and when Zayn had pushed his head down with a whimper and soft, encouraging fingers Liam had moaned so loudly and so openly that he’d gagged on it. God, he can still _taste_ it. But --

Liam jumps when the bartender appears right in front of him again, heart skipping a beat, and he pulls back on reflex like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“Here y’go mate – sorry about the wait,” the lad says, pushing the two bottles towards them with an easy smile, and – god could he _hear_ any of that? It’s unlikely; Zayn had been speaking so close, not taking any risks even if he does like to push the limits, and the man’s already walked off to the other end of the bar. But _still_.

“Oh my god, you’re such an _arse_ ,” Liam hisses, a little louder now that they’re apart. He digs his fingers into Zayn’s side in reprimand, right under his ribs where he’s ticklish.

Zayn being Zayn, it doesn’t have anything like the desired effect. He gasps and squirms and leans into Liam’s touch, pulling him close again, and jokingly breathes “fuck, babe, finger me harder,” which – okay, Liam’s cock thinks is pretty hot, but it’s also so unexpected and ridiculous that he can’t help but laugh out loud, batting Zayn’s hands off him as he pulls away.

“You’re an idiot,” Liam sputters, glancing around. “Also there’s – _people_ here, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“I know,” Zayn says with a casual shrug. He’s wearing an accomplished little smile, a little bit cocky and a lot dirty where his lips quirk up at one corner, but it softens when it reaches the creases by his eyes like he’s trying not to laugh too and Liam sort of wants to push him up against the bar and snog him stupid. “I just like seeing you get all, like, flustered and that. I think you like it too, yeah?”

Liam’s cheeks are still burning, hopefully not too obvious under the barely-there lighting, but he can feel them nonetheless. His heart’s still racing, too, mortified at the idea that any of the people milling around could have heard, but somehow it just mixes with arousal and amplifies it all. Everything’s just a bit too _hot_ , really.

“I do not,” Liam mutters, picking at the label on his beer with one fingernail where it sits on the bar. He’s not convincing himself, and he’s certainly not convincing Zayn.

“Course,” Zayn grins, winking at him. Liam tries not to focus on the way Zayn’s fingers wrap around the girth of the beer bottle when he picks it up, and he’s definitely ignoring the way the condensation on the neck of the bottle brushes Zayn’s lips shiny-wet when he raises it to his mouth. And the way Zayn’s throat bobs when he swallows.

Liam picks up his own beer with a good-natured frown and an embarrassed _fuck you_ , mumbled against the rim of the bottle before he takes a gulp.

Zayn slides down off the stool so they’re pressed up against one another; warm fingertips slide under Liam’s t-shirt to nudge at bare skin, brief like he’s lost his balance and needs something to steady himself instead of the deliberate tease Liam knows it is in reality. “Mm,” Zayn murmurs consideringly as he makes a move to walk away, a hand on Liam’s shoulder as he passes so he can lean in close one more time. “Fuck _me_.”

Liam _really_ needs to start choosing his words more carefully.

***

If Liam had thought that Zayn would be slightly less – _intense_ – once they’d sat down, he was sorely mistaken. The music’s a bit quieter back here, the atmosphere a little darker, and Zayn seems to only take that as encouragement.

Thing is, if Liam genuinely told him to pack it in Zayn would do so in a heartbeat, and yet for some reason Liam just -- can’t. Keeps telling himself he should stop letting Zayn dirty-talk him into a state of delirious excitement but it just feels so good that he doesn’t want to stop. Zayn’s done it before, occasionally, but it’s normally just a whispered line here and there to get him a little bit hard and a lot flustered. Tonight, though, he’s relentless.

“Going back to the subject of you sucking me off last night,” Zayn says with the casual air of someone _not_ talking about blowjobs in a semi-public setting while the hand on Liam’s thigh slides upwards imperceptibly – it was down by Liam’s knee a few minutes ago, the warmth of Zayn’s palm bleeding heat through the denim, but now it’s mere centimetres from Liam’s dick and Liam has no idea when that happened. “I was thinking about returning the favour later?”

“Yeah?” Liam says softly, a bit lightheaded at the thought. It’s not like there’s any favour to return; Zayn had stopped him before he’d come, turned Liam over and thoroughly fucked him into the mattress, so. No complaints. Besides, Liam would go down on Zayn every day for the rest of his life even if he never, ever got the same in return because he loves it and because making Zayn feel good is just, like, one of his absolute favourite things in the world.

Still, though; he’s not exactly going to say _no_.

“Mm,” Zayn hums thoughtfully, his lower lip wet where he keeps sliding it between his teeth. His eyes flicker down for a moment and he rubs at Liam’s leg through his jeans, dangerously close now to where Liam’s half hard and pressed up against his fly. “D’you think anyone would notice if I got down on my knees right here and sucked you off under this table?”

“ _Jesus_ , Zayn,” Liam hisses, hand grasping at Zayn’s where it threatens to creep higher. He means to push it off completely, but instead his hand just stays there, pressed to Zayn’s. Liam should probably move it off.

He doesn’t.

“You enjoying yourself tonight, babe?” Zayn asks quietly, careful like he’s giving Liam an out just in case he’s gone too far.

“Yeah. Course I am,” Liam smiles. He wishes he could close the space between them and kiss him, and settles instead for slipping a hand between the back of the seat and Zayn’s waist, fingers splayed across his hip. It feels a bit daring, but he’s pretty sure no one will be able to see.

“Good,” Zayn says, eyebrows raised with an amused quirk to his lips like he’s surprised at how bold Liam’s being. The hand on Liam’s thigh slides higher. “Christ, you look so fucking hot tonight. I just want to get you back to the hotel; the things I want to do to you when you’re looking at me like that.”

Liam’s pulse picks up, an excited jolt that feels a little like losing control. “Will you tell me about it? What we’re going to do later?”

Zayn glances down momentarily, then back up, and his palm slides up Liam’s leg until his fingertips touch the crease of his thigh. He brushes his thumb in a sweeping arc, an achingly slow tease over the bulge in Liam’s jeans, and it feels so good that Liam has to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from making a noise, breathing uneven.

“I reckon we should go and find somewhere a bit more private and I’ll get you off while I tell you all the ways you’re gonna be fucking me later in your hotel bed, babe,” Zayn says, and gives him the filthiest of smiles. He slides out of the booth, giving Liam a meaningful look, and heads off in the direction of the nearest door where they can slip out quietly.

Liam adjusts himself and pulls his t-shirt down in his lap, thankful that the room is dark enough to hide how hard he is; stands up and follows, and doesn’t look back.


End file.
